tective prowling up and down the cul-de-sac, it was no effort to
her to begin at once a laughing account of a school examination which
Charles Osmond had told her about, and so naturally and brightly did she
talk that, though actually brushing past the spy under the full light of
the street lamp., she entirely disarmed suspicion.

It was a horrible moment, however. Her heart beat wildly as they passed
on, and every moment she thought she should hear quick steps behind
them. But nothing came of it, and in a few minutes they were walking
down Southampton Row. When this was safely passed, she began to feel
comparatively at ease. Haeberlein thought they might take a cab.

"Not a hansom," she said, quickly, as he was on the point of hailing
one. "You would be so much more exposed, you know!"

Haeberlein extolled her common sense, and they secured a four-wheeler
and drove to Cannon Street.

Talking now became more possible. Haeberlein leaned far back in the
corner, and spoke in low tones.

"Thou has been my salvation, Erica," he said, pressing her hand. "That
fellow would never have let me pass in the Italian costume. Thou wert
right as usual, it was theatrical how do you call stagey, is it not?

"I am a little troubled about your mouth," said Erica, smiling, "the
mustache doesn't disguise it, and it looks so good-tempered and like
itself. Can't you feel severe just for half an hour?"

Haeberlein smiled his irresistibly sweet smile, and tried to comply with
her wishes, but not very successfully.

"I think," said Erica, presently, "it will be the best way, if you don't
mind, for you just to stroll through the booking office while I take
your ticket. I can meet you by the book stall and I will still talk for
us both in case you betray your accent."

"HERZBLATTCHEN!" exclaimed Haeberlein, "how shall I ever repay thee!
Thou art a real canny little Scot! I only wish I had half thy caution
and forethought!"

"Don't look like that!" said Erica, laughing, as the benignant
expression once more came over his lips. "You really must try to turn
down the corners! Your character is a silent, morose misanthrope. I am
the chatter box, pure and simple."

They were both laughing when they drew near to the station, but a sense
of the risk sobered Haeberlein, and Erica carried out her programme to
perfection. It was rather a shock to her, indeed, to find a detective
keenly inspecting all who went to the ticket office. He stood so
cl